


With Secrets on Our Lips

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Best Friends, M/M, Non-Standard Formatting, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 01:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts when Sam is eleven and John is nine. They fall asleep in sleeping bags on the floor, and in the morning they can read each other’s minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Secrets on Our Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the soundtrack to the story: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=FL7cDYRIw3UoA_aY9p1v4Z8A&feature=mh_lolz
> 
> Thanks to opusculasedfera for looking this over for characterization and Canadianism. Thanks to Stellarer for beta reading and putting up with me.
> 
> eta: The formatting is intentional! Trust me, it works out, it'll make sense, just go with it!

  
It starts when Sam is eleven and John is nine.  
It’s almost the end of summer. They have been spending almost every day together.  
They fall asleep in sleeping bags on the floor, and in the morning they can read each other’s minds.

Eleven and nine year old boys do not tell anyone when they develop psychic powers.  
They hardly think it’s strange at all; psychic powers are just another part of life. They must be part of growing up, or something.  
Telling other people wouldn’t do any good.  
Telling other people could only bring about bad things. Probably nobody would believe them. Or they’d get taken by some kind of crazy Weapon-X made science base where their brains would get cut open. Or maybe they wouldn’t be allowed to play hockey.  
That would be tragic.  
The point is that some things are best kept secret, and best friend mind reading powers are definitely one of those things.

Secret best friend mind reading powers don’t really change anything, not right away.  
Having psychic powers is undeniably awesome, but the package they’ve got is pretty basic. It’s more about awareness than concrete communication. They can tell where the other is, and how the other is feeling, but that’s about it.  
They can send words if they focus real hard,

which gives John headaches,

and makes Sam feel nauseous.

Maybe it will get easier as they get older.  
Or maybe not.

It doesn’t matter. One doesn’t look a psychic power gift horse in the mouth.  
(It might bite.)

They don’t try to block each other, not really. If they weren’t supposed to hear each other’s thoughts then they wouldn’t be able to hear each other’s thoughts. It makes playing against each other more exciting: sometimes easier, sometimes harder, in close to equal measures. It isn’t an advantage or a disadvantage, it’s just different.

They don’t try to block each other because they don’t want to block each other. Having another set of sensations echoing around quickly becomes ordinary, even comforting.

They grow up, and it doesn’t disappear.  
There had been some worry about whether it would stop working, if it was a spell that ended after a year or whatever, but it seems here to stay.  
That’s good.

Sam doesn’t know what he’d do if it disappeared.

Neither does John.

The silence would be too much.

They play hockey, on organized teams and in Sam’s backyard. They play lacrosse in the summer. They have birthdays. Sam becomes a teenager. School is terrible.

It isn’t fair that John is a grade behind Sam in school. Sam has to learn all of the math formulas first, and then when it’s John’s turn he can use Sam’s memories.

This would be more of an advantage if Sam was better at math.

It still isn’t fair.

Memory is a tangled web; they’re still figuring out how it works.  
They get muddled about who has read what book, and seen what movie.  
Things that happen to them are pretty easy to keep track of because they’re filtered through personal experience, but passive entertainment can be a mess.

John has started watching movies that he knows he hasn’t seen before only to recall the ending halfway through, handily provided by Sam’s subconscious.

Their life is a shared experience, even when they aren’t going through it side by side.

Slowly but surely, growing pulls them apart geographically, while the bond keeps them together mentally.  
The distance doesn’t matter. It’s the same when in the next room as when they’re far apart. The bond itself gets clearer and clearer. They don’t know if it is a natural part of growing up, or if it’s something that happens because they’re more comfortable.  
It comes at the perfect time though. Being able to speak in their minds is a gift when they no longer get to talk face to face.  
They still make phone calls, for appearance's sake, and because there’s nothing like hearing your best friend’s voice.

In their minds they talk all the time. It isn’t like, oh, now we’re having a conversation about a thing, it’s always there, they’re always together, sharing thoughts.

It’s hard to argue when they know both sides of an issue.

They think different things, believe different things, hold different opinions, but are always aware of how the other looks at it.

Their power saves them from hiding thoughts they never would have been brave enough to start conversations about.  
They don’t notice when it starts, both of their eyes both occasionally lingering on male bodies.  
For a long time it passes without comment.

The shared space of their minds is plagued by two sets of fluctuating hormones encouraging stuttering crushes and erotic dreams.  
They’re always thinking about sex, but they never talk about it.  
They don’t need to talk about sex because they’re always thinking about it.

Sex will be there later, right now there are more pressing decisions.

Sam has make up his mind about whether he’s going to go to college or play in the OHL.  
He gets lots of good advice, but it’s still a choice he has to make, and like, it’s his future, the rest of his life, he doesn’t want to make any decisions, not really.

Whatever he does will be fine.  
He should worry less.  
There isn’t any need to panic.

In the end he chooses to play in London, which seems like a good choice. He plays on a line with Kaner. He winds up putting up 118 points in 53 games, which is something to be proud of. He has friends at school, and goes to parties and kisses girls. He’s, like, basically cool.

But not really.

He’s the youngest member of team Canada in Sweden for World Junior, and they bring home a gold medal.

That is pretty impressive.

It all works. He’s doing well, better than well, he’s doing great.

It isn’t surprising.

It’s exciting.  
He’s playing hockey, and he’s going to get to keep playing hockey. The next question is where.  
He’ll find out soon enough.

The first time they get off together is the night before Sam’s draft.

What happens is that he can’t sleep.

John tries to help.

They count sheep together.  
They visualize walking down an endless set of stairs, a ball of yarn unrolling, and floating down a river.  
Nothing works.

_I hate this._

John’s frustrated too.

_I don’t know.  
Stop thinking about it.  
Clearly thinking doesn’t work._  


_What?_

_Anything._

Sam sticks his hand down his pajamas.

Hundreds of kilometers away, John does the same thing.

The feedback loop which is normally full of hunger, or exhaustion, or soreness, flares with lust.

It doesn’t take long.

Afterwards, Sam closes his eyes, and before long his mental voice becomes a sleeping mumble.

John stays awake for a while longer to follow his friend’s dreams, and think about the future.

They don’t talk about it over the summer.  
They play hockey across two continents, and talk about all kinds of stuff, but at no point do they discuss the night before the draft.

They think about it sometimes.  
They can’t hide that they think about it.

But they don’t talk about it, because then they would have to admit it’s weird, but as long as they don’t call it weird it won’t be weird, and they aren’t calling it weird.  
The easiest thing to do is not talk about it.

Sam goes to Edmonton, where he has a picture hanging on his wall, which is impressive, even if it isn’t hung right.

That’s one opinion.

At least he has his own room,

in a house that’s owned by his captain,

a house where he can do whatever he wants.  
There aren’t any parents, billet or biological, to tell him what to do.

That must be why it took him so long to get real sheets for his bed.

The point is that Sam is leading an exciting grown up life in Edmonton, while John is still in High School.

John _is_ still in high school, and sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he even does normal high school things like going to parties and talking to pretty girls.

The girl is very pretty.  
Blonde and undelicate, self assured.  
She’s been flirting with John all night.

He didn’t notice.

It’s obvious in the way she leans in to hear him speak, the way her hand lingered on his after he brought her another drink.

_Why would you bring a drink to a girl if you don’t like her?_  


  
_It was something to do._  
It’s the type of thing he’s supposed to do.

“It’s really hot in here,” John tells her.

It’s loud too, and they have to stand close to hear each other. He can smell the floral aroma of her perfume.

She takes his arm and leads him through the crowd, out the back door.  
It’s quiet here.  
John can breath again.  
She shivers in the fall chill.

Sam gets killed in a video game.  
He was distracted.

This isn’t John’s fault.

Not at all.

It wouldn’t hurt John to live a more adventurous life.  
He could put his arm around the girl’s shoulder for warmth.

That would be a gentlemanly thing to do.

It would bring them closer together.

She snuggles against his chest.  
He could kiss her if he wanted to.

He should totally kiss her, if he wants to.

He doesn’t want to.

That’s alright.

She’s very pretty.  
Pretty and soft and blonde, with curves he wouldn’t know what to do with if he got his hands on them.

  
_No one knows what to do at first._  
Sam learned.

John isn’t sure he wants to know.  
Her curves are beautiful, and he doesn’t think he wants to touch them.

_There’s nothing wrong with that._

  
_I know._

It’s still comforting to hear that from someone else.

He isn’t good at doing normal high school things.

Well, he does alright,

but it doesn’t feel comfortable.  
He’s much better at playing hockey.

He is fantastic at playing hockey.

That’s why he’s playing for Canada as a 17 year old.  
He may be the 13th forward, but World Juniors are still a big deal.

He spends most of the tournament hanging out with PK.  
He spends some of the tournament making out with PK.

Sam is happy for him.

John is happy for himself.

Making out is fun, PK is fun, playing hockey is fun, winning a gold medal is super fun.

All that fun and feeling good is a nice distraction for Sam.

It doesn’t matter how good Sam is this season, the Oilers would still be terrible.  
He tries not to let that get him down.  
He’s a teenager playing in the NHL, therefore his life is awesome.  
He focuses on that, not how much losing sucks, not how it feels like he’s disappointing people, not the way it hurts when he fails to meet other people’s expectations.  
His life is categorically awesome, so he can’t say anything’s wrong.

He doesn’t have to.  
John thinks he deserves better.

John’s unwavering belief in him makes Sam’s whole life better.

The summer is. . .nice.

They spend months pretending not to notice how things are different, pretending that they’re simply friends, just friends, with no real interest in anything else.  
They both know this isn’t true, because _mindreading_ , but there’s an unspoken agreement not to look too closely.  
They don’t need to speak about it, because _mindreading_.  
They’ll figure it out eventually; when they aren’t in the midst of a thousand other chances; when they’re older, and better prepared for the future; eventually.

They spend the summer doing normal friend-things, and head back to their teams with nothing resolved.

Sam’s second season with the Oilers is alright.  
He doesn’t really like living alone.  
It’s nice that there’s no one around to notice when he talks to himself

(to John).

That’s actually a nice metaphor for his second season with the Oilers: he’s talking to himself in an empty room.

What he says doesn’t really matter,

(except to John)

no one is listening,

(except John)

he’s just talking to entertain himself

(and John).

The interesting parts of Sam’s second season with the Oilers don’t happen on the ice, they don’t happen in Edmonton, they don’t happen on the road, they happen in his head

(with John).

The interesting part of Sam’s second season with the Oilers is the back and forth with his best friend, sharing secrets and making promises,

_I’m here, I care, talk to me til I fall asleep._

Sam can do that.

He tells a story about two boys who grow up together, and have adventures, and fight evil, and live happily ever after. It isn’t a very good story, but that doesn’t matter.

John drifts into dreams of racing across international sized sheets of ice.

John’s second World Juniors experience is, in a word, spectacular.

_“The magical play of John Tavares” is the best sound bite in history._

John’s never going to live it down.  
It’s going to get carved into his headstone.

_That actually isn’t such a bad idea._

_Shut up._

He shouldn’t care, he is pretty damn magical.

After all, he does have psychic powers.

It’s not just that, it’s everything.

_You’re going to make me blush._

_Good._

Playing in World Juniors is a thrill, an unsteady rush towards a gold medal.

Watching it unfold on television and through their link is a good distraction from spending winter in Edmonton on a losing team.

John doesn’t make out with PK this year.  
There’s one good kiss, high on the rush of winning, but otherwise they keep their mouths to themselves.

PK’s still great, but there’s a voice in John’s head whispering that this isn’t the world’s best idea.  
It isn’t Sam’s voice, not really.  
It’s their shared subconscious offering muted jealousy that could have come from anywhere.

John goes back to Junior in a good frame of mind.  
He won another gold medal and he has great friends.  
That’s what matters: hockey and friendship.  
The whole romantic whatever can wait.

 

At the trade deadline John gets sent to the London Knights.

They’re a damn fine team.

John isn’t headed there alone, DZ got traded too.  
It means they’ll be in the playoffs, which is exciting.

Sam’s season ends with a whimper.  
He’s ready to go home, where he can watch his best friend play on his old team in the playoffs.

John hopes he’s putting on a good show.

_You’re fantastic._

John brushes aside the compliment, along with the knowledge that it’s a true feeling, not intended as flattery.

Sam really thinks he is fantastic.

That’s what John wants to be:  
fantastic,  
and everything Sam thinks he is.

The Knights don’t go all the way to the Memorial Cup.  
John’s disappointed, of course, but it was a good run.

Now all he can do is wait and worry about the draft.

He doesn’t have any reason to worry.

It’s just a lot of pressure.

He’ll be fine.

Being fine can be a lot of pressure.

He doesn’t have to be fine if he doesn’t feel like it.

He’ll be fine.

John gets drafted, first overall.

He deserves it.

He will work to live up to the expectations.  
He’ll be fine.

They aren’t going to make it into a big deal.  
It seems like the whole world is doing it for them.

Knowing that they’re both headed to the NHL in the fall doesn’t change the rhythm of their summer as much.

They train hard, like always.  
They hang out, like always.

The kissing is new.

The kissing is new and super fantastic.  
The kissing can stay.

For sure.  
The kissing and everything that comes with it is great.

Why weren’t they doing this last summer?

John is positive they had a great reason.

Sam isn’t so sure.

The kissing is really good.

It must have been one hell of a reason.

It doesn’t matter, they’ve got it figured out now.

The summer ends, which is sad, but they have other things to do.

John steps up to playing in the NHL like a natural.

It’s his rookie year, and he’s terrified on the inside,

but he doesn’t look lost.  
Not at all.

The Oilers and the Islanders meet twice in the preseason.  
Playing against each other is bizarre.  
They’ve never really learned how to block each other, not effectively.  
They spent juniors in different conferences of the OHL where they only had to (got to) play one game against each other a year.  
Fortunately (unfortunately) this is continues in the NHL.

One game a year doesn’t make much of a difference.  
Two preseason games really don’t matter, and they hardly try to not read each other, because that’s hard work, and it’s not like they don’t have enough to think about playing hockey.

The teams split the games.  
The Oilers take the first 1-0.  
The Islanders take the second 3-1.

Now that’s over and they can happily go back to hanging around in each other’s minds without a second thought.

It’s only in times like this where mind readings seems like it could be a problem that they realise how weird they are.  
Most of the time it isn’t an issue.  
Having psychic powers is normal.

They meet each other as pros for the first time in November.

John gets a goal to tie the game the end of the first.

Sam gets a roughing minor with twenty-seven seconds left in the third.  
By then the Oilers are down 3-1, and it doesn’t really matter.

By the end of the season they’re both well acquainted with how it feels to lose.

The Oilers finish last in the league.  
The Islanders are 26th.  
This isn’t good.

It isn’t their fault.  
It’s a team sport.  
They both played well.

They could have been better.

Sure, they could have been better, better is always possible, but this isn’t on them.

They’ll be better next year.

But for now they can enjoy the summer.  
It doesn’t help to dwell on defeat.

John goes off to play in the World Cup, which is pretty alright. It would have been better if they won something, but it’s still a good time.

After that they have the rest of the summer for themselves.  
There’s training, but other than that. . .

There’s a lot of sex.  
Last summer it was all new.  
They were still hesitant, still uncertain.  
Communication wasn’t a problem, they knew what they liked, but they didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

Last summer Sam thought that he would probably enjoy sucking marks across John’s collarbones and down his chest. This summer he actually does it.

They do a lot of things.  
They try a lot of things.  
They learn more about what it’s like to have sex along with shared thought.  
It’s more than the feedback loop.  
It’s almost like precognition, always knowing the next right move.

There aren’t any questions to ask, no uncertainty. Every touch feels good; they know it will feel good before it happens.  
There isn’t any surprise.  
Some people might say they’re missing out, and maybe they are, but it’s better together than anything they’ve tried with anyone else.

There isn’t anything suggesting that to they need to do anything differently.

They end the summer sated, well conditioned, and ready for a new season.

Things in Edmonton are looking a bit brighter with some fresh blood.

Taylor Hall’s a first overall pick; Jordan Eberle is a Canadian World Junior Hero.

Sam’s excited, but he also knows this could get complicated.

One of the biggest troubles in having secret best friend psychic powers is that they have to act like they’ve never met people that the other knows.

Sam didn’t play on Team Canada with Jordan Eberle,

John did.

They bonded over shared Canadian pride and respect of each other’s hockey skills.  
They told each other things in confidence, important things.  
Not that Sam and John can read each other’s minds, they don’t tell anyone about that, it’s too big, but other things.  
Just because their best secret is so monumental it doesn’t mean all the little ones don’t matter.

Now Ebs is a rookie on Sam’s team, and they’ve met before, but there isn’t a reason for Sam to feel as familiar as he does. It makes him want keep his distance a little bit. He doesn’t want to slip up and let on that he knows things about Jordan that John knows that Sam shouldn’t.

He can’t keep too much distance, because he’s Jordan’s road roommate. That’s good, actually, it means they talk a lot, and Jordan starts to be familiar in a normal manner, not just through John’s memory.

Sam tries really hard not to know if Ebs and Hallsy are really dating, because he’d like to maintain some plausible deniability. He knows Jordan is into guys sometimes (one of those things John knew that Sam wasn’t supposed to). Sam doesn’t have any evidence that Jordan has something going on with Taylor, but it seems pretty obvious. He doesn’t need to have it confirmed it with his own eyes.

It doesn’t matter what he needs, it happens anyway.

It is completely not his fault that they were making out in Jordan’s truck which was parked right next to his car.

Well, maybe he could have not bumped into Jordan’s truck.  
It wouldn’t hurt to pay more attention to where he’s walking.

He learned his lesson, he knows to avert his eyes.

John reminds him, most of the time.

Sometimes John doesn’t remind him, because John doesn’t care if he gets scarred for life.

Or maybe John has more important things to pay attention to.

Probably not though, because what’s more important than shielding Sam from his teammates’ depravity?

Other than the game of hockey?

Hockey is definitely more important. It’s more important than everything.

(They never have to say if something is more important than their relationship, because their relationship is always there. They aren’t, like, dating, or whatever. They’re just breathing.)

Their second NHL game as opponents is early in the year.  
Neither of them make the scoresheet.  
The Oilers win, 2-1.

Sam has a game in Vancouver the next night, so they hardly get any time together, but what they do get is good.

Sometimes it’s just nice to have their bodies in the same place for a little while.  
Their heads are always together, but most of the time their bodies are very far apart.  
Things seem better when they’re closer.  
Not in a big way, but it’s just _better._

Who knows why. Who knows how.

Maybe Sam’s just imagining it.

_No,  
I feel it too.  
I don’t know what it is.  
It’s something to do with pitch? _

_Or tone,  
or frequency.  
It’s like sound, but  
not really.  
It’s harmony?_

_Things don’t hurt when we’re apart, but it’s like they can’t hurt when we’re together._

_It’s something I kind of remember from a physics class—  
(maybe your physics class, not mine, or maybe a movie, I’m not sure)  
—I only half remember.  
But you strike two tuning forks together,  
I remember that:  
metal tuning forks, and the sound they make.  
They sound fine on their own, but if you bring them together the sounds start to interact.  
The waves hit each other and make a whole new sound.  
We’re like that—  
we’re a new sound._

_Yeah, I guess that makes sense.  
Being alive sounds better when you’re close to me._

_That’s a sweet thing to say.  
Kind of weird, but sweet._

  
_It’s the truth.  
And we are weird.  
And we’re hard to explain.  
But yeah.  
That’s what it feels like._

More or less.

It’s hard to use words to describe sensations that only exist inside the mind.  
Fortunately, they’re psychic, they know what they mean.

_Yeah, I love you too._

Sam doesn’t know if they would have figured out how much they meant to each other if they had to talk about it.

John’s sure they would have, eventually.  
It would have been harder, but they would have managed.

They’re lucky.  
They didn’t have to explain.  
They just knew.

That’s probably the best thing about having psychic powers: always knowing.

One of the worst things about having psychic powers is that there isn’t anyone to ask how it works.

There’s always been the question, hiding in some dark corner, of what it would be like if one of them got injured, really injured, not just banged up.

Really, it’s amazing that it’s taken them this long to find out.

When Sam’s hand gets cut, it’s a freak accident.

It happens in Washington, when Sam has his gloves off to get a drink of water, and Jonesy is going over the boards, and skates are just so sharp. Sam hardly has a moment to realize what has happened, then he’s going down the tunnel, and out of the game,

(And he doesn’t know it yet, but out for the rest of the season and the beginning of the next).

It hurts.

It hurts, and it sucks, and it doesn’t make any sense, and Sam just needs to—

—take deep breaths.  
He needs to take deep breaths, and wait for the pain pills to kick in.  
Everything will be alright in a little while.

But right now it’s the worst.

Fortunately, time passes.  
Things are going to get better.  
He just has to be patient.

The Oilers lose to the Capitals, of course.  
They lose badly.  
Of course.

John was at home when it happened.  
He could have watched the Oilers on TV, but that would have been cheating.  
He had been watching a movie, which he leaves running, now with a steady commentary about the onscreen action and anything else that happens to pop into his head.  
Anything that’s distracting.  
Before he had been doing his best to keep quiet and let Sam focus on the game, trying to make it like he wasn’t there at all.  
Not anymore. Now he does everything he can to make it seem like they’re right beside each other.

It helps.

  
_Good.  
I want to help, in any way I can._

John wants him to never feel pain, and only be happy, except for the times when it’s good to be sad.

They both know this is impossible, but knowing that this is what they want for each other helps.

It keeps on helping.

John proves to be the ideal distraction.  
Sam is stuck on the sidelines as the Oilers limp to their second consecutive last place finish.  
It isn’t even close.

The Islanders are the 27th.  
John is glad he has something other than this to obsess about.

Their teams can’t stay this bad forever, but until that changes at least they have each other.

Another summer.  
John plays in the World Cup again.  
Sam goes home and waits.  
They don’t mind the distance.  
They never do.  
There can be an ocean between them and they’ll still hear each other as clear as ever.

Sam doesn’t like to think about what could have happened to them without the mind reading.  
It’s the kind of thing that rattles around as he tries to fall asleep.  
They would still be friends, but they would have drifted apart.  
They wouldn’t be as close as they are now, though that isn’t saying much—  
Sam doesn’t know how they could be closer than they are.

  
_You could be here next to me,_  
John thinks.

Sam shivers.

_I could have you pressed into the mattress,  
you could be moaning,  
we could be—_

The specifics aren’t put into words, but communicated in a flurry of images and remembered sensations.

  
_Less than a week now, then you’ll be here with me._

They’re good at patient, they have to be to survive the season,

but right now Sam just _wants._  


_Less than a week._

_That’s nothing._

Their actual summer, when they get to it, is more or less fantastic.  
It’s a run on sentence of sex, training, golf, sunshine, being lazy, being close, so close, a piece of paper couldn’t fit between them, as closely intertwined as their minds are all year round.

It’s hard to go their separate ways in the fall. Their powers make it easy, but they’d still rather be in the same place.

Still, if that’s is what they have live without to play hockey, they’ll be fine.

Sam still isn’t 100% at the start of the new season, but he’s closer, almost better.  
Everything is a little bit better, the whole team.  
It’s a fresh start, and there are reasons to be hopeful.  
More fresh blood, another first overall pick in the lineups.  
They’re building something, this might be their year.

And John’s still there.  
Always.

They can’t ignore each other.  
Mostly they don’t want to.

Sam’s filming some promo thing,

but he isn’t paying attention.

Media day at the start of the season is always pretty boring, so he’d be pretty spaced out even if there weren’t something more interesting happening.

John’s showering.  
Nothing out of the ordinary;  
he’s just in his shower at home, before dinner with his team.  
It isn’t intended to be a show.

It’s pretty distracting.

_It’s not my fault that you have a dirty mind._

That could be debated.

_It’s half your mind too._

It’s hard to determine where one mind ends and the other begins.

_I’m thinking about soap.  
You’re the one thinking about sex._

_You’re the one who’s naked._

  
_True._  
John looks down to watch the water run between his legs and over his thighs.

Someone behind the camera asks Sam where he was born.

John thinks _Oakville,_  


so Sam says “Oakville.”

Then he thinks, _Wait, that isn’t right._

He wasn’t born in Oakville.

_You’re really unhelpful._

_I honestly thought you were born in Oakville._

_It isn’t better that you’re wrong. If anything that’s worse than messing me up._

_Where was I born._

Sam isn’t sure.

_Oakville?_  


_Wrong._

_Fine. Let’s never speak of this again._

Knowing each other inside and out doesn’t mean they have all of the trivia down.  
They don’t talk about things.  
Mostly they don’t have to, mostly they just know.  
Only some things slip through the tracks.

The nice-to-meet you survey questions were answered too long ago, or they were never really answered, or were promptly forgotten, or the answer’s have changed since then.  
Like:  
What’s your favorite color?  
What’s your least favorite food?  
And, apparently:  
Where were you born?

They don’t know these things about each other, not consistently, not without probing.  
It doesn’t really matter.  
They know all the important bits.

Sam might lose at John Tavares fun facts trivia, but if he needed to he could probably explain John better than anyone else.  
Not that he’s bragging or anything.

_No, it’s true.  
You could certainly do a better job than me._

_It isn’t that you have critical distance exactly—_

— they don’t really do distance, not with their insides —

_— it’s that you saw everything, were there for it all, but not quite._

_I think they call that distance._

_I don’t like that._

_We could call it something else._

_Perspective — let’s call it perspective.  
You have the right perspective to get how I think about things._

_Thanks. I think._

_It’s a good thing.  
Sometimes I need another perspective on my life. Sometimes it gets to be too much.  
Then you’re there, but not right there, a little ways away, so I have to look outside, which makes me see how all the different pieces fit together.  
I need your perspective._

Sam bets he’s blushing.

He doesn’t even try to explain to John that this works both ways. It isn’t feel capable of articulating what it means. He trusts that John will pick up on it, this easy knowledge another part of how well they fit together.

All the time apart — and god knows there’s a lot of it — isn’t really apart.  
There’s no parting.  
They’re just not as close.  
Except for when they are — whenever that is — is always worth celebrating.

They’re together on New Year’s Eve.  
It’s a rare case of scheduling working for them, making a calendar holiday better than it would be otherwise.  
They’re going to start 2012 awesomely.

The game is fine.

Sam doesn’t care about it too much. It doesn’t matter, not when he gets to see John.

John can’t not care about the game, he just doesn’t know how.  
But he doesn’t care about the game nearly as much as he cares about Sam.

_Aww, I’m touched._

After guys from both teams wind up at a bar. It’s loud, with John and Jordan reliving their World Junior victory. Sam gets to remind the table that he has a gold medal too, which makes Taylor scowl and Ryan roll his eyes.

Shortly before midnight they ditch their teams.  
(It’s easy to make private plans when you don’t need to talk out loud.)  
They find a secluded spot on a deck that’s closed for the season. They can still hear the countdown going on inside, and they kiss at midnight. It’s the best start to a year that either of them can remember. Good things are going to come to them.

A month and a day later Sam scores eight points in a game against the Blackhawks.

John sees it all happen and couldn’t be prouder.

After it happens Sam doesn’t think about it a whole lot.

That’s a lie.

He tries not to think about it too much.

It’s evidence that he can be better, that he can work harder, that he could accomplish anything. That’s good, that’s inspiring. But he can’t let it go to his head.

_Like I’d let that happen._

_Yeah, yeah.  
We’re good at keeping each other grounded, Mr. Exceptional Player Status, Mr. First-Overall._

_Fuck off._

_“The magical play of John Tavares.”_

_I hate you._

_I know that’s a lie, Johnny. You don’t hate me, you loooove me._

_Yeah, well…_

There’s no arguing with that.

They don’t argue, they play hockey, and time passes, just like always.  
They never argue, they always play hockey, and time always passes.  
The Oilers are at the bottom of the standings again. The Islanders aren’t much better.

Another inglorious end to a season.  
Another summer to spend together.

They keep busy training and catching up with friends.  
Spending time together is strange, as they’re seeing the same situation from different points of view. In a way seeing the world like this, doubled, slightly shifted is almost more disorientating than taking in two fully separate streams.  
Being together always involves a period of readjustment. Soon they settle into having what comes close to being 360 degrees of vision.

During the season John doesn’t think of himself as touch starved, he doesn’t find himself craving contact.  
But during the summer Sam is always around, right in his space, pressing them together, skin against skin.  
It’s nice.

They’re unwittingly caught in a feedback loop.  
Sam touches John, who buzzes with pleasure, pleasure that echoes through them both, conditioning Sam to touch John more.

That’s the best way to describe the summer: they touch each other.

The summer stretches on and on. At first it’s good, but it becomes less and less so as the lockout gets closer and closer, first as something to worry about, then as a real thing that they’re living through.  
There are trips to New York, and technically it’s fall, but they’re still together, so it’s still summer.  
The summer is like a rubber band that’s being stretched too far.  
They aren’t close to snapping, but the world feels too tight, not enough give.

It’s going to get colder, they won’t be able to keep pretending.  
It isn’t summer anymore.  
They should be gone by now, off playing hockey, not stuck at home together.  
As good as it is they know it isn’t right.  
They have to do something.

They don’t really try to play together during the lockout.  
They think about it, they know they’re both thinking about it, but they don’t talk about it, and neither of them say anything when it doesn’t happen.  
They could have made it happen, probably, if they talked about it.  
They don’t talk about that either.  
The lockout has already given them more time together than they would have had normally, asking for more might have been unreasonable.  
It’s not like they have any trouble keeping in touch.

They head to Europe,

Austria

and

Switzerland.

It’s something new, something different.  
Through all the foreign languages spoken on the sidewalks and lettered on streets signs they still have each other.

They’re caught up in the Euro hockey experience, unaware of events unfolding in North America that will make them reevaluate their whole world.

In her last year of college Sam’s sister meets a boy.  
This in and of itself is not exceptional.  
She’s a pretty girl, she meets a lot of boys, most of whom she doesn’t mention to her older brother.  
This boy though, he’s special.  
His name is Max.  
He’s in her biology class.  
He’s very nice.  
They manipulate the situation so they’re lab partners.  
She will say it was love at first sight.

Sam doesn’t hear about any of this until way later, when his mother initiates a mandatory transatlantic family conference call.

Apparently, waking up with psychic powers elicits very different reactions from college girls than from preteen boys.

When there wasn’t anything immediately useful on Google Jessica called their mother, which led to lots of excitement, and eventually, a grand reveal:  
Jessica and her Max are soulmates!

Sam is split between not wanting to hear about his baby sister’s love life, and needing to hear every detail of what’s happening.

“It’s a soulbond,” his mother says. “An unbreakable link between two people in love.”

It sounds an awful lot like his super awesome best friend psychic powers.

Eerily similar.

It runs in their family.  
Something about recessive genes, and unpredictable generation gaps.  
She never told them because the odds were so low.  
She thought it was better to explain after the fact than tell them tales they wouldn’t believe, or get their hopes up for something that might never happen.

It never happened to her, but she still fell in love.  
She’s happy. She loves their father. He loves her too.  
It isn’t the same, though.  
She tells them about her grandparents’ bond, and how beautiful it seemed. It was true love, like from a storybook.

“What happened to Jessica is magical, just magical,” she says.  
“It could happen to you too, Sam, wouldn’t that be nice?  
Imagine meeting a girl and knowing she’s the one.  
Then you wouldn’t have any reason not to settle down.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, I guess that would make it an easy decision.”

This isn’t really funny, but John feels like laughing.

Timing is important. There’s already been a decade of secret keeping.  
He doesn’t have to say anything right now.  
Holding on to their truth for a while long won’t hurt anything.

“A soulmate — that sure would be something.”

Sam is concerned by how hazy Johnny’s thoughts seem.

  
_I don’t know what to say._  
It’s a lot to take in all at once.

Absolutely, it’s huge, it’s enormous, insurmountable, but still, Sam wishes he could know what John thinks of this.

John doesn’t know what he thinks of this.

If he did, Sam would too, because they have psychic powers.  
And are soulmates, apparently.

John’s confusion is the opposite of reassuring.

John isn’t trying to be confusing.

Sam doesn’t think he is.  
It’s just frustrating.

They’ve gotten so used to their specific level of weird.  
It’s been a long time since reading each other’s minds was strange.  
The new knowledge that it means something more than they thought is frightening.

Sam doesn’t know what to think.  
He doesn’t know what any of this means.  
He can’t tell where this leaves them.

_I love you._

There is that.  
It’s something he can hold on to.

They’ve never been shy about these words. It has never been an option.  
They love each other.  
They have for a long time, since the before the mind powers kicked in, probably.  
It hasn’t always been the same kind of love, but it’s always been love.  
That they love each other is constantly there, humming along in the background.  
Most of the time they don’t say it.  
Most of the time they don’t have to.

_I love you too._

That’s good.  
They love each other.  
That’s very good.

There’s still the question of what to tell Sam’s family.

Sam doesn’t know how his mother would take the sudden revelation that her son has shared a soulbond with his best friend since before he went through puberty.  
She’ll be happy that he’s happy, he’s pretty positive about this.  
But he doesn’t know how she would handle the secret keeping.  
She might be disappointed that he never felt he could trust his family with this.

He should probably say something though.  
Probably.

_I don’t know what you should say to them, they’re your family._

_It isn’t simple._

_Nothing is simple._

_This is extra not-simple._

_Complicated. The word you want is complicated._

_I don’t know what words I want, that’s the problem._

_It’s complicated.  
You can say, “Mom, I can read John’s mind and he can read mine, it’s been like this since I was eleven. It’s complicated.”_

They can ignore this for a while longer.

They’ve been ignoring a lot of things.

It’s worked fine.

For now.

They should probably have a real conversation about things.

Not just sniping at each other in their minds, an actual conversation.  
The kind that uses words and has lasting aftereffects.

They could have a real conversation over Christmas?

They’ll be in the same place to play for the Spengler Cup.  
They already had plans to spend the time together, they can include a conversation somewhere in the holiday.

That will work fine.

But until then ignoring this complication will work fine.

They’re almost always at least halfways ignoring each other.  
They’re both living lives that require their attention.

Left unexamined, this seems unkind.  
Don’t they deserve more from each other than being ignored?

Maybe.

But more importantly, no matter how hard they might try to ignore each other, it never really works. There’s always some whisper getting through. They never leave each other alone.

They’re never going to leave each other alone.

They’re _soulmates._

There’s something fitting about their big talk happening in Switzerland, the ideal neutral ground.

They don’t talk about it the first day. The first day they settle in, get used to each other’s company. They first day includes desperate breathless kisses and ends with falling asleep curled together.

The second day there’s a team to get familiar with, hockey to play, hockey to think about.

They have can’t avoid it forever.

They’ve done fine so far.

But now that they know, now that they know what this is, know what it’s called, they should talk about it.

“Does it really make a difference?” John asks.

They’re lying in bed, tired, but not trying to sleep.

“I — I think it should. It should make a difference. But I don’t feel any different.”

“It wasn’t a surprise, not really.”

John doesn’t have to ask if Sam feels the same way, he already knows.

“It _fits._  
Like, _soulmate_ is this made up sounding thing.  
I’m not crazy about it as a word, I don’t want my life to be so science fiction whatever.  
But if I have to believe in soulmates, if I’m confronted by evidence that they’re a true thing—  
well, if that’s the case, of course you’re mine.”

“I — yeah. Same.”

“Do we have to make it more complicated than that?”

“Probably. At least a little bit.”

They sit for a while, not saying anything, not thinking anything, not really.  
Their silences are very comfortable, if fragile.

  
_I really like us._  
“I don’t want anything to change.”

They don’t need sound to communicate.

“Yeah.  
Me too.”

But sometimes saying it out loud feels nice.

Sam breaks the silence because he wants John to hear this.

“I don’t think anything has to change, not right away.  
We’re happy now.  
I don’t see what should be different.”

“Yeah.  
We’re good.”

This is just how they are, how they have been for ages.

_We’ll tell people eventually.  
We’ll tell your family about this, about all of it, the best friend psychic powers, or whatever.  
That’s such a dumb name._

_We were kids. It could have been worse._

  
_True._

_We’ll tell them and they’ll be happy for us._

“And someday we’ll tell everyone about the other thing,  
the being in love thing,  
or whatever we want to call it.”

_We have secrets, but we don’t need to keep all of them indefinitely._  


_Only the most important one._

  
_I don’t know about that._

“Even if we couldn’t read each other’s minds, even if we didn’t know we were soulmates, I still think we would be in love.  
That’s more important than anything else.”

Sam isn’t thinking in words, it’s a hum of color.

Love sounds beautiful.


End file.
